


Poems about John Murphy

by lexterminate



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexterminate/pseuds/lexterminate
Summary: just a series of poetry about John Murphy





	1. The Hanged Man Who Lived

I am John Murphy.

 

I’ve made choices that most would regret, 

but I don’t, I won’t and I can’t. 

Some might call them mistakes and 

they might be, but I had my reasons. 

I’ll do anything I have to, just to get by

another day.

 

Delinquent, criminal, murderer— 

 

it’s what they call me, it must be what I am.

I can’t deny that I've been all of those, but 

I am who I am because they broke me;

fit a noose around my neck and choked me.

I wanted to make them feel what I felt

and know I would do what they couldn’t.

They meant to kill me; I meant to kill them.

 

Monsters are made, not born. 

Created by an unforgiving system; 

an orphaned child, who was always blamed 

for crimes I didn’t commit and 

mistakes I never made— 

forced to endure brutal consequences

that left me bruised and thinking

 

_there must be something wrong with me._

 

I’ve lived with anger for so long

that I’ve forgotten who I am without it.

Like a sickness, it infects both my brain

and my heart. I build walls with it, 

use it like a weapon; trust no one 

and attack before i’m attacked. 

It is both a protection and a curse,

 

but it’s how I learned to survive. 


	2. Who He Used To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um... just read the thing. I suck at this, okay?

He used to be happy, 

but that was a lifetime ago.

 

A young boy, curious and carefree;

all smiles and laughter, playful and adventurous, 

but he doesn’t know that kid anymore. 

The one who loved stories 

and had big dreams of becoming someone

that people might talk or write about —

that boy is more than a distant memory.

It was someone else’s life. 

 

His innocence was taken, 

long before he was ever ready to live 

without it. 

 

It started with a cough and the sniffles;

just a normal cold, until his fever spiked

and his stomach tied in knots. 

 

His skin burns, he sweats, 

It’s a struggle just to breathe. 

he’s so tired, but he can’t sleep; 

there’s a throbbing ache in his brain. 

Shivering, he whimpers through the pain.

 

Sat at the edge of his bed, his father

pressed a cool hand to his burning forehead, 

pushing the hair from his sweaty brow. 

His child suffered and he could do nothing 

to prevent it. 

_Son, I will save you._

 

He remembers the look on his father’s face, 

the sadness in his eyes when he brought 

medicine meant to cure him, but it didn't  

and it wasn’t long before they came… 

 

_Alex Murphy, you’re arrested_

_for the crime of stealing medicine_

_and will be executed._

 

They took away his father and his family. 

He was sick for weeks, pale and dehydrated, 

but his mother wouldn’t even look at him;

reminded too much of what she lost.

She drowned her own sickness with alcohol—

numbing her memories and her heart. 

 

He watched as she faded away  

and he fought just to survive the day.

She blamed him for murdering his father. 

Then she was gone too.  

 

So he became an orphan, a pariah, a criminal.

Learned to live alone, to survive 

by turning his heart to steel and not letting anyone 

get too close because they might get hurt. 

He might hurt them. 

 

It’s the only life he thought he deserved now. 

Who he used to be died with his parents

and who he is now doesn’t want to be 

 

loved. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment, kudos, whatever the hell you want... 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: murphysurvived.


	3. Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean... what?

Survivor.

The word tastes bitter on his tongue, 

but he drowns it with another shot of whiskey.

All it ever meant to him was that he was alone,

always alone…

 

Nothing but his thoughts and nightmares, 

memories of violence, anger, and betrayal that forever 

haunt him. They cling to him, 

like hands wrapped around his throat.

He keeps drinking to numb the pain, 

but it never seems to dull.

 

Everything was wrong,

but that wasn’t really a surprise to him.

It had never been easy, not since 

he was small; a child who got sick 

and never really got better.

Nothing was the same after that.

 

He should have known it was the last time

things would ever be okay.

If he closes his eyes, even for a second,

he’s back there; newly reborn on Earth; it was supposed to be

different. Kids, except now they look like animals;

wild and unrestrained, surrounding him.

 

Their screams are noise, echoes of voices.

Hands reach for him, grab him, push him to the ground

and he tries to fight against it, but there’s too many.

They descend like wolves ready to slaughter—

stuffing his mouth, tying his hands;

a makeshift noose strung up and forced around his neck.

 

_“I didn’t do it. Please, it wasn’t…”_

 

He begs with his eyes, someone has to believe him—

Murderer they call him again and again,

the noise becoming static as he waits suspended,

feet barely touching something solid, but he’s still alive

for now; panicked, his heart pounding, his breathing shallow;

 

This is his execution.

 

It’s a one second free fall, 

a rush that ends before he can hit the ground…

 

Unable to help himself, his body swings freely

in his own personal gallows; the crowd watches

as he strains and jerks, seeking freedom and

redemption for a crime he didn’t commit.

 

Gravity pulls at his weight, but he’s tied in;

the noose thin and tight, pressing against his throat.

He’s choking behind his gag, seeing spots even with

eyes shut tight. He doesn’t hear anything, no voices

screaming. It’s so quiet, silent as everything

slowly turns to black. 

 

He thinks it’s over. His life is over—

_John Murphy is dead._ His struggling slows

as he faces his mortality and gives in

to letting his waste of a life end.

 

He’s never had a use for prayer,

but he begs God for mercy, for his neck to snap

and kill him so this can all be done.

It’s a small request, but the price of peace

is high and no one’s bothered to

save him before. Who would protect

someone like him, he thinks; consciousness

 

_fading_

 

_fading_

 

_fading_

 

Suddenly he’s falling again, crashing

to the ground. Hands reach out for him,

but he pulls away, he can’t trust anyone.

Dizzy and angry; he screams through his gag

until they cut him loose. There’s voices again—

a girl confessed; a child had murdered…

 

They had blamed him, strung him up to die;

he thinks it’s her turn. They’ll kill her

just like they wanted to kill him,

but they don’t.

 

When she jumps and dies, he’s the one they blame; again.

He’s beaten, bleeding and raw…he should be dead by now;

This is the boy who betrayed him, who wouldn’t believe

anything he said; that boy wants him to die,

but still he doesn’t.

 

Banished; his survival is his own, that’s always his story.

A phantom noose still hangs around his neck

and he wishes he had died that night because

anything would be better than this living nightmare.

 

Scars form across his skin, on his heart—

new and old. The memory of his brush with death

fresh in his mind as new memories are made.

Captured and tortured, left in a cage and

infected; he never knew he could lose so much

blood. Another escape, another almost-death.

 

He knows he’s not safe because

he never has been.

 

If it can go wrong, he will be wrong

 

And now he’s alone again.

Nothing and no one to hurt him here…

but it’s too empty and too quiet.

The old records can’t even

fade out the noise of all his nightmares

screaming through the night at him.

 

He’s always haunted

by the echoes of his past

and the mistakes he’s made,

but he goes on.

 

This is his life: Hell on Earth,

but he’s a survivor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, kudos, cookies, whatever the hell you want... let me know or don't. 
> 
> find me on tumblr: murphysurvived


	4. asphyxiate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

> it’s always around his neck
> 
> a rope, a chain, a collar,
> 
> a noose.
> 
>  
> 
> even when it’s gone,
> 
> the shadow of it exists;
> 
>  
> 
> clinging to his skin,
> 
> choking him—
> 
>  
> 
> a tightening pressure,
> 
> wrapped around
> 
> the hollow of his throat.
> 
>  
> 
> it’s the feeling that he’s
> 
> never free,
> 
>  
> 
> that he’s always caged,
> 
> imprisoned, trapped, and under
> 
> the someone else’s control.
> 
>  
> 
> there’s no escape;
> 
> only death,
> 
> but he lives on.
> 
>  
> 
> the fear of it
> 
> constant,
> 
> gripping him
> 
>  
> 
> at the base,
> 
> around the nape,
> 
> pinching the scruff
> 
>  
> 
> and it won’t let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!! Find me on tumblr: murphysurvived.


End file.
